


Walk through fire

by wryhun



Category: K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 17:05:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15490611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wryhun/pseuds/wryhun
Summary: He may have been the peaceweaver, but he was also merely human.





	Walk through fire

Prince Wonwoo jumped off his horse, as General Kahi grabbed hold of his horse’s reins before he could turn its face towards the stables. As befitted him, being the fourth in line to the throne, he first accepted the general’s deep bow and kiss on his signet-ring before greeting her as her former student by bending his head to kiss the blood-red band on her upper right arm. And, it was at that moment that Wonwoo became aware of something terrifying having happened recently – yes, something more awful than having lost the war. For, Madam Kahi’s breathing was regular – too perfectly timed and modulated – a tick he had come to realize meant the general was deliberately hiding how disturbed she was so as to present a confident face to the warrior she knew was a guaranteed loser.  
For two years he had himself maintained that stoic calm, as border villages in his duchy had been emptied of its youth, as small bundles of wedding rings and hand-woven gloves had been returned back to families lucky enough to get any confirmation. He had rationed out not just grain but even water from the dwindling castle stores, as the river had been dammed from the other side and their fields on the mountain sides had been destroyed by cannon fire.  
Two years, and his father, the younger brother and Prime Minister to Minguk’s Queen Nana, had advised to call for truce. By then, the country’s population had been reduced by a third.

With horse and bags left behind, Wonwoo was grabbed by the wrist and hurried through the Fort’s inner courtyard. Anxious and distracted, he still noticed the decorations hung up on the pillars – serene blue banners of their dynasty’s colours placed beneath and outshone by Daehan’s aggressive pink – the motif of their twined hands almost cowering beneath the sharp arrowhead of the conquerors.  
As his eyes laid on the armour piles being placed in bullock-carts, and the gold and silver coins being poured inside trunks, impotent rage squeezed his heart. For long months, the trade blockade placed on them by Akkinda’s armada had meant they couldn’t buy any grain – and they couldn’t chew on coins to fill stomachs. Nobles had had to meal on grass and horse and the citizens had starved, otherwise poisoned themselves on unknown wild greens and diseased vermin.  
Seeing Wonwoo pass, Lady Raina, the Treasurer, bowed respectfully before returning to her supervision. If Wonwoo hadn’t been so pre-occupied by wrathful recollection, he would have noticed – it was a bow made too deep for anyone not Monarch or Crown Prince.

Wonwoo had expected to be pulled to the Council Room or War Chamber – either to be added to a discussion on Daehan’s some new cruel demand, or to be informed of a plan on renewing hostilities. Certainly not to his cousin Jungkook’s room, armour and clothes thrown around, his father and aunt sitting on the unmade bed still in nightclothes.  
Queen Consort Uee had handed him a letter. Lord Adviser Aron had bolted the door behind him.  
\- Jungkook had taken his fishing trawler and made off into the treacherous waters of early spring’s melting ice-sheets filled western sea. Much worse, he had taken off with his sister Somi. Somi, bride-to-be of Daehan’s second prince. Somi, who was to be packed off with Minguk’s treasury, and handed over to Ong’s Queen Seongwoo to be taken to Akkinda’s Rock Fort. Somi, who was to be the guarantor of the precious peace holding.  
Wonwoo had read Kook’s stupid, reckless words – and shivered, stumbling over to rest against his younger brother’s study table.  
Oh he understood every word Kook had written – he felt them deep – the rage, the humiliation, the prideful need to thwart those bastards...the love, the reluctance to send baby Somi to a life lived in hell.  
And yet, dumb, naive, unknowing childish Kookie didn’t know – Daehan had been merciful. Without the treaty, Minguk would become a desert. If peace wasn’t made, then their harbour was blocked, their main river was dammed, and their orchards and grasslands would wither. And death didn’t even have to come slow – for, Daehan had Mansae’s soldiers with them too, and war re-starting would decimate their own reduced army in days.  
“I have a boon to ask of you,” the Queen, his aunt had intoned solemnly, breaking through Wonwoo’s panicked imagination.

“The only other option is Kaeun,” Consort Uee had stated.  
Wonwoo had stared, confusion fast crystallizing into horror.  
His father had chuckled, mirthless amusement thickening his voice, “Your mother would say – Jong old man, you’re finally senile!’ But, this wasn’t my idea, I promise-”  
Lord Aron had cut in, “It was mine, Crown Prince Wonwoo. The treaty necessitates the wedding of the fertile next-ruler of Minguk to the second-in-command Daehan prince. In our princess’ absence...your aunt, High Princess Kaeun may be unwed, but she is...well, old enough to be an aunt to the Prince of Akkinda. Only you qualify”.  
Wonwoo knew. He did, and yet, his lips formed the word, “Seulgi”.  
Bluntly, Lord Aron interjected, “She is no virgin. Not just us, but the entire eastern hemisphere knows that”.  
Wonwoo recoiled. This was something people didn’t speak of, no, not even the loose-lipped drunkards of the capital’s dirtiest alleys dared to do so. Seulgi, his elder sister and former heir, softest heart and sweetest smile, had been caught abed in the royal forest lodge with a hunter. Her lover had been dragged out, tied to the closest tree and quartered and flayed, confessing to being a spy. Seul-noona had gone insane at the sight.  
Seulgi, had been sent to a nunnery, having been given to the god as handmaiden.  
Everything had been hushed up. Yet it seems everyone knew of the incident, if not the full truth then a more scandalous version of it.  
Teenager Wonwoo had grown up with that ash-tinged brand on his forehead – maybe unseen to eyes, but aware of how judgement could fall on him. His elder sister’s doing had marked him out, pre-emptively tainted. Whispers had heralded his steps, gazes had followed each word. Older nobles had insinuated, younger ones had avoided.  
Wonwoo had learnt the lesson – no royal carrier had a right to their own life.

Wonwoo knew not to beg for mercy. A stubborn part of him had still tried to plead for more time. Had tried to question why would the Queen of Ong easily accept the swap in bride? – that too noticeably, from girl to carrier. Yet, a part of him had recoiled – how easily had he accepted Somi’s bartering away, few seconds of anger, a few words of recrimination, spare moments of pity...but now it was to be his doom, and he couldn’t accept the order with the calm grace his little sister had. Jungkook had at least put his life on the line to save Somi, and he the eldest was just going to sit and let her be taken for sacrifice.  
“Father please! You promised you wouldn’t force me!” Wonwoo had entreated his father, having exhausted every other line of reasoning under the combined assault of aunts, teacher and Lord Adviser.  
“I do not wish to. I will if I have to. But, remember back then, I had asked of you only one thing – to not dishonour me. Today, I remind you of that vow,” Prince Jonghyun had stated, tired.  
Wonwoo had looked at his last hope burning out – at what his father wrenched away from him, again.  
He had acquiesced, bowing his head in defeat, again. His silence had been taken as agreement, again. Not the protest he meant it to be.

Wonwoo had only spoken to accept the position of Crown Prince, as Somi’s circlet had been placed on his head. A farce of a crowning, him circled by just seven courtiers. In the middle of day, no fireworks, bare walls, no feast. With elders crying out of sorrow, not joy. He had sat on the princess’ chair for maybe a second. No cheers had resonated through the hall.  
Silence had reigned from then onward.  
He remained silent as he had stood shivering in the Solar, as dozens of maids re-fitted Somi’s trousseau to his size, working for long frantic hours.  
Silently, he had written a last letter to his mother, mother he would never see again. Mother he wouldn’t ever hug again, whose voice he could hear only in imagination from this day onward.  
Still and straight he stood, as they cut off his warrior’s braid. He didn’t flinch, as they pierced his ear-lobes, scrubbed his archer’s calluses off his hand, tore away his arm-brace signifying military rank.  
Past midnight he was finally sent up to his rooms, less than half a dozen hours he had before dawn arrived to take him away.  
Wonwoo would have gone down to brush down his horse one last time, would have run out to the city streets to look, to touch, to collect the scent of his motherland. But, it was not to be. Guards stood outside his door, teacher Kahi waited beneath his window.  
Wonwoo laid down on his bed, his circlet of thorns making his head ache. He turned his face to the side, staring out the window. Soft pillow became the victim of teeth biting down, engulfing screams in its cloudy depths.  
The starry night grew hazy. Upper lid quarrelled with lower lid, the phosphorescent waves broke on the salt-sand.  
Dawn broke blood-red, the silver handful of time dipped below the horizon.

\-----

Queen Seongwu, ruler of their neighbouring nation, had been a childhood friend of the Daehan Queen Minhyun. Wonwoo’s mother, Duchess Minki, also knew him from his girlhood spent in Ong’s court as a Lady-in-waiting to the then-Queen. And so, he had been the one to broker ceasefire, and then parley to make the treaty. He was the one who had chosen Somi as peaceweaver, and he was likely to become very annoyed to know his wishes hadn’t been followed perfectly.  
And, everyone knew not to displease Queen Seongwoo. After all, being no noble but a mere courtesan, he had achieved the crown after deposing the former dynasty using his intelligence, playing princes and nobles off against each other. Even worse, his consort and general of his army was the greatest warrior of the era, Kang Euigeon – a man who would happily follow Seongwoo to hell and at his word put an annoyance into hell just as certainly. 

Wonwoo had started the day fretting, wondering if Queen Ong would even accept him as suitable replacement or if he would consider their made-up explanation a horrible insult. He had day-nightmared as he had been dressed and placed on the Crown Prince’s chair in the throne-room, as courtiers had filed in. He had contemplated how he would die and by whose hand – if fast, then pierced with sword by Ong’s Consort, if not, then maybe rotting in Daehan’s – no, his could-have-been-husband’s dungeons.  
Before he had time to properly feel sorry for himself, the agitated chatter of the surprised nobles had stuttered to a stop as the beautiful queen of Ong had stepped in. The Queen had been dressed in his favourite colours of black and white, coat chequered in chess board squares – his favourite game. His smile had dropped off instantly to see Wonwoo where he had expected Somi’s presence, the royal circlet wobbly on his unprepared head.  
A finger had lifted up, “What is the meaning of this farce?” pointing at Queen Nana who had stood up to greet him.  
“Our honoured guest-” Duke Jonghyun had tried to speak, only to be silenced by Consort Ong’s raised palm.  
“Hand over the Crown Princess, Duke of Minguk. I have no interest in any other polite prattle,” the foreign queen had demanded.  
“As Wonwoo is the eldest of the fertile heirs, and the only one of age, we thought it would be better if-” Consort Uee tried to interject.  
“You didn’t show him to me that time, and we had decided on Somi. So, what changed? What is the truth?” Queen Ong asked reasonably.  
Adviser Aron gestured for the courtiers to leave, who gladly scrambled away out of the hall, anxious to avoid being in the direct line of the foreign queen’s rage.  
“Somi was found...not suitable. So we asked Wonwoo – he is Duke Jonghyun’s son – to take her place,” the Queen answered.  
“Unsuitable? Like another of your princesses?” The warrior consort interjected with a smirk.  
And, let’s say it took effort for Wonwoo to keep himself from protesting out loud that – ‘He didn’t have to take lip from a Lord-killer!’  
“While it is true that he is my younger child, I thought the Lord Consort of Ong had sense enough to know not to give credence to malicious rumours when it came to matters of the state?” Lord Jonghyun’s voice rang out, clear and loud enough for even the courtiers and soldiers outside the hall to hear.  
As Lord Kang’s face reddened, Wonwoo’s hand shifted to his belt, to his mother’s dagger. Well, proceedings were certainly going south, and he would prefer a warrior’s death with a weapon in his hand.  
Queen Ong’s eyes fixed on that pale long-fingered hand peeking out of his gauzy lace sleeves. And a smile of monkeyish humour lit up his face. “Come here child, let me see you,” he called out to Wonwoo.  
Startled, Wonwoo dropped his grip on the ivory handle, and seeing the Lord Adviser nod, stood up. The Castle Seneschal Lizzy moved to stand beside him as he walked to where the foreign Queen stood. Wonwoo knew it was humiliation for a Crown Prince to be ordered to walk to a foreign dignitary, but he had to endure quite a few more instances if he wanted to save his nation.

As he stood in the sunlit patch from the window, he let the Queen of Ong lift his face and look at him. He didn’t know that his dark smudged eyes and hollow cheeks had worked to heighten his beauty, adding vulnerability to the fragility implied by the delicacy of his slim bird-like build. As the full moon’s ivory becomes fairer for the violet sky surrounding it, the shortened hair framing his face drew attention to his smooth cream complexion.  
After a few long seconds, the fingers on his cheek finally dropped.  
“You’re Ren’s younger one?” was all he was asked. Wonwoo nodded.  
Queen Ong addressed his father, “I think he takes after you in features but after Ren in pride, hmm?”  
As the bemused Prime Minister agreed, “Ah yes!” the Queen spoke to Wonwoo, “Then in truthfulness? Do you take after your mother, Wonwoo? Tell me what happened? Don’t be afraid...think of me as just another aunt”.  
Wonwoo trembled under that superficially kind snake-like gaze. ‘Gods, help me, please!’ he thought.  
As he considered whether to continue the lie, the Consort of Ong interrupted, “Or you could just confirm the rumours we heard?”  
And Wonwoo wanted to bash that smug face into a bloody mess.  
Taking a deep breath, he replied to the ‘another aunt’, “Somi and Jungkook have gone missing. She was scared”. After a beat he continued, “Please don’t punish our people for what two children have done. I’m willing to take her place. I, we, promise we’ll follow every other provision of the treaty”.  
Wonwoo waited to see if any of his relatives had something to say...anything, even if to deny, or maybe to add on?  
But, Queen Ong questioned him, and not any other person in that room, “They expect a young girl, a princess of the direct line. And, do you think they would calmly accept you, a carrier, and a child of a cadet line?”  
Wonwoo looked at that keen, intelligent face. In this moment, he knew the only one who could save him, save his country was this remarkable carrier.  
“I beg you, please. You can convince them, I know. Please, since you’re an aunt to me, give me this for all the presents you didn’t give for my birthdays!” Wonwoo held the Queen’s hands and entreated in full seriousness.  
The Queen of Ong laughed aloud. “Ah, witty like Ren then!”

\-----

Wonwoo had accepted the hugs by father and aunts with a strange detachment. It was as if he was watching this all happen to someone else, merely visualising a bard’s tale sung at court.  
\- Akkinda’s prince’s bride is guided up the plankway to Ong’s ship. A journey of a day and night waits him...He lies down in his chamber, as his assigned maid Kwon Soonyoung guards his slumbering princess. Through the rounded glass windows the sandy shores, dearest motherland, recedes away. The choppy grey waters and cracking ice-sheets appear. The ship shakes, tumbling as it navigates the out-grown crop of half-submerged rocks. Hours pass, the shivering stops.  
Wonwoo is called out for lunch. He lets his attendant wrap a fox-skin coat around his shoulders. He goes out to the deck, and takes lunch as ordered.  
He stares towards home. Home, where soon the cherry blossoms will drift into his room with the breeze.  
Maybe, if Daehan accepts him, the riverbed will gush anew with water. The goats will till the fields. The girls will pick berries and mother will make jars and jars of jam.  
He doesn’t notice when tears start painting his cheeks.  
The Minguk princess was guided back to his chamber. 

“Your Highness, wake up!” Wonwoo startled awake to an earnest face whispering urgently to him.  
Slipping out of sleep he noted, the bodyguard cum maid – was his name Soonyoung? – was gesturing at the window. He looked outside, to see the pale lavender of the skyline above a thin line of white sandy land. In seconds, the tall rocks of the grey cliff of Akkinda came into view.  
It was time.  
Soonyoung dragged him into changing into a more conservative set of clothes – the rose pink velvet skirt (after all they were originally meant for Somi) heavy with golden embroidery, the long powder blue brocade jacket tight over the high-necked white tulle shirt.  
With Soonyoung’s help he was made presentable within minutes.  
And right after, the call came for him to prepare to disembark.


End file.
